At evening they drift
To a rainbow party
Down by the river shady and wide,
The river that flows
In a serpentine tango
Past blue-headed hills to the green satin tide.
Yellow eyes glow
Under lids indigo;
Shoulders are spangled with meteor dust;
Quips may be heard
Studded with words
Like ‘flamingo’, ‘synthetic’, ‘abhor’ and ‘entrust’.
Lonely . . . or laughing like a doubloon
With a naughty clown –
Everything mixes but not into grey.
The black spotted sun
Sinks like a bun,
Splashing the sky with a leopardskin light:
A question mark drips
From its tangerine lips
But is crushed by the bosom of burgeoning night.
Mandolins croon
To the violet moon.
Thin-wristed lovers share baskets of fruits;
Between fingers and thumbs
Red swollen plumbs
Are breaking like blisters all down their new suits.
Fire . . . fireworks festoon;
The night passes too soon,
With witchery, rapture, desire and dismay.
Then on the horizons
The doctors in phaetons
Assemble at daybreak to take them away.
